FLIT
by Mythrae
Summary: How N'varr, bronze rider of Kevlarth, arrives at Mackenzie Weyr with his fair of fire-lizards, ready to do some investigating of the murders that have been occurring around Pern. Please R
1. Chapter 1

F.L.I.T.

Part One

The bronze dragon appeared over Mackenzie Weyr, his wings flaring elegantly in the mid afternoon sunlight. The young blue on watch duty bugled a query and the bronze replied with his name and Weyr affiliation. A welcome and an invitation to land followed and the bronze turned his head towards his back.

_Wake up,_ he demanded of the rider slung negligently backwards between dorsal spines. The rider's arms and legs jerked and only the riding straps looped across his middle kept the man from falling.

_Thanks a lot,_ the rider replied sarcastically, stretching and sitting up. _Are you trying to knock me off again?_

_It's your own fault for sleeping while I'm doing all the work,_ the bronze commented. _We're here._

_Oh?_ the rider craned his head over the side of the bronze's neck to look down at the ground, while turning his body around to sit properly on the bronze. A manoeuvre obviously done many times before, judging by the ease and speed with which it was accomplished. _So that's Mackenzie Weyr, is it?_

_No, it's Half Circle Sea Hold,_ the bronze answered sarcastically. _Where did you think we were, N'varr?_

N'varr didn't bother to answer as he looked over the hollowed out Red Butte below him. It looked good, he nodded to himself. And the Weyrleaders had a good tract record for safe Falls, too.

Suddenly, his head was jerked back on his neck as the bronze abruptly started a dive towards the Weyr below.

_Hey!_ N'varr protested, leaning back to counter the downwards spiral. _Kevlarth! Knock it off!_

_Pay attention,_ Kevlarth replied, not in the least bit chastened. _The Weyrleader and Weyrwoman are waiting below to meet you._

Kevlarth's mind pictured the junior Weyrwoman, Gwyn, not Lynnia, and N'varr wondered where the other woman was. The birth of her twin daughters had gone well, the other Weyrs had been told, so by this second sevenday afterwards, she should be up and about. Still, N'varr thought to himself, maybe she had duties she couldn't give up just to meet a temporarily transferred bronze rider from Southern.

Kevlarth backwinged and gently landed on the ground fairly close to where two figures were standing waiting. Three fire lizards zoomed up to N'varr's head as he unhooked his belt and belongings.

"Hi there," he greeted the bronze, brown and blue that hovered, inspecting him. "My fair will be along any minute now, so they can tell you all about me."

The bronze conferred with the other two then the three zipped back to the waiting figures. N'varr slid down to Kevlarth's forearm, then leaped to the ground, landing with practiced ease. Slinging his travel bag over his shoulder, N'varr thumped Kevlarth's neck, then headed towards the Weyrleaders.

Once his rider was far enough away, Kevlarth launched himself into the air and glided to the lake where four women were supervising a group of drudges bathing. Without warning, he folded his wings and dropped like a stone into the cool water, dousing the women on the shore and causing shrieks of dismay. N'varr, keeping his back turned, held in a smile.

"Weyrleader, Weyrwoman," N'varr courteously bowed to the pair smiling at him. "I am N'varr from Southern Weyr."

"You are well come, N'varr," M'ark extended his hand which N'varr shook firmly. "Kevlarth looks in fine form."

Gwyn's eyes sparkled with laughter.

"And those women are even cleaner now," she grinned. N'varr let out his own grin as he took Gwyn's hand and brought it ceremoniously to his lips. "Welcome to Mackenzie Weyr, N'varr."

N'varr was shown to his quarters for the duration of his stay at Mackenzie. It was ground level weyr, as he had requested, quite close to the Weyrling Barracks, which explained why it was empty, but that wouldn't be a problem. Kevlarth was good at keeping young dragons controlled if necessary. He had just settled his belongings into the press given him, while exchanging small talk with Gwyn, when a full fair of fire lizards swarmed into the weyr. Gwyn, although used to the many fire lizards at Mackenzie, still ducked when they flew down close to her head. N'varr glared around at their antics.

"Settle down!" he barked at them. "Now!"

To Gwyn's astonishment, every fire lizard immediately landed on a piece of furniture, cheeped once then gave full attention to N'varr.

"My apologies, Weyrwoman," he smiled ruefully. "I should have waited outside until they found me."

Gwyn looked at the fire lizards, even more astonished.

"Are they all yours?" she asked, counting quickly. "You Impressed... fourteen fire lizards?"

N'varr shrugged.

"I like fire lizards," he admitted with a smile. "I've been hunting for eggs and Impressing what I can ever since I was old enough to walk the beaches at Southern."

Gwyn's amazed eyes picked out two golds, three bronzes, two browns, three blues and four greens, all waiting patiently for a word from N'varr.

"Have you... named them all?" Gwyn inquired, still bemused. She had never heard of anyone with that many fire lizards!

"Oh, yes," N'varr grinned, nodding. "Like to meet them?" At Gwyn's nod, he pointed to the golds. "Meena and Raye, my queens, the bronzes are Digger, Croon and Zip, the browns are Waffle and Mart, the blues are Grizzle, Klick and Budge and my little green ladies are Lita, Hibble, Ranny and Flirt."

"Well, my goodness," Gwyn murmured. She had certainly heard all the names, but remember them? Not likely. "I just have a blue. Doog. Oh, and a feline named Cat."

"Felines are nice," N'varr agreed. "But I'm always travelling, and they don't like flying much. My fire lizards keep up with me wherever I go. And speaking of fire lizards..." N'varr turned to the group assembled on the furniture. "Go find places to sun yourselves and don't get in the way." The golds chirped inquiringly. "Yes, you two can stay, but the rest of you take off."

To Gwyn's delight, the twelve fire lizards launched into the air and vanished _between,_ no doubt to do exactly what N'varr had told them to. If only Doog was that obedient! Meena and Raye (Gwyn remembered their names!) settled onto N'varr's broad shoulders, their tails loosely wrapped around his neck giving the impression of a thick golden collar.

"So, N'varr," Gwyn started, as she walked with N'varr outside once his unpacking was done. "How long will you be at Mackenzie?"

"Well, that all depends," N'varr replied seriously. "I'm doing some work around here that might take me a long time, or I might be done by the end of the week."

"What are you doing, anyways?" Gwyn inquired curiously.

N'varr stopped and turned to face the Weyrwoman, his expression one that might have been carved out of very rock on which they stood.

"I'm investigating a murder, Weyrwoman," he stated quietly. "And the holders feel that the murderer is someone here at Mackenzie Weyr."


	2. Chapter 2

F.L.I.T. Part Two

N'varr pulled his leggings on, listening to the sounds of the weyrlings feeding their dragons. It was very early in the morning, the false dawn just starting to fade, but N'varr wanted to get a good start on his day. He liked visiting other Weyrs and Holds, one of the reasons he was chosen for this job, but he did miss Southern's hot sands and cool waters.

The bronze rider glanced at one of the charts he had put up on his wall and nodded to himself. Today was Thread free, but tomorrow it was expected to fall over this region. He would have to work the outside today then.

Striding out into his dragon's part of the weyr, N'varr was pleased to note that Kevlarth was still asleep. Sneaking out the entrance, he shushed the fair of fire lizards that began to cheep upon seeing him and picked up Zip, the largest and fastest of his bronzes. Sending clear and simple images, it only took two repetitions for Zip to know what N'varr wanted. Cheeping softly in excitement, the little bronze flew into the weyr, the man close behind.

The big bronze dragon was twitching slightly, a sure sign that he was on his way towards wakefulness. N'varr grinned to himself. His timing, as usual, was excellent.

Now, he thought at the fire lizard who immediately swooped down to perch delicately on the very top of Kevlarth's slumbering head. Filling his lungs to capacity, the little bronze abruptly let out an ear piercing, high pitched screech.

The bronze dragon's eyes snapped open and he scrambled to his feet as Zip vanished between. Glaring around, Kevlarth spotted N'varr clutching his sides, bent over laughing.

_Very funny,_ Kevlarth grumbled, settling back down to his couch.

"It was, actually," N'varr chuckled. "Not as good as the time you actually fell off your couch, but still, remarkably funny."

_Personally, I enjoyed the time YOU fell out of bed, _Kevlarth replied, his sense of humour emerging. _I had no idea you were ticklish THERE._

"Gotta have some secrets, my friend," N'varr said, his cheeks slightly stained red. He and Kevlarth had been playing tricks on each other almost from the moment they Impressed. And the fair of fire lizards had no scruples about helping either of them along!

_Well,_ Kevlarth said after a moment, stretching luxuriously. _How to you plan to start finding this despicable person?_

"Same as always," N'varr shrugged, scooping up a pot of oil, a paddle and smoothing the liquid over Kevlarth's neck. "I'll ask around, see who's seen what, see what I can find out."

_That didn't work last time,_ Kevlarth reminded his rider, lowering his head so that the oil would run between his eyes. _You were lucky that I was close by._

"I was indeed," N'varr thumped the bronze. "I am always lucky to have you, funny face."

_And I, you, N'varr._

Oiling over with, N'varr stepped out of the weyr and down the slight incline to the Bowl. Kevlarth, once he was free of the overhang, took off towards the watchdragon. That it happened to be a flirtatious green that he had met yesterday was of no account, N'varr was sure. Smiling to himself, he walked down to the lake where many of the weyrlings were up to their necks scrubbing dragon flesh. Noting one

small weyrling trying to reach over the neck of a large brown, N'varr stepped down to the edge.

"Need some help there?" he inquired of the boy. He couldn't have been more than twelve Turns, the youngest the Weyr accepted for Impression.

"Oh!" his eyes widened at the sight of N'varr, then went wider still when he recognized the shoulder knot as that of a bronze rider. "Um... I can manage, sir."

N'varr watched as he struggled in vain to reach the dorsal spikes of the obligingly crouching brown.

"Are you sure?" he asked him, an eyebrow lifted. The boy sighed and turned an amused face to him.

"I guess it's pretty obvious that I can't," he stated with a shrug. "But I'll get one of the others to help me once their dragon is asleep."

"That could take forever," N'varr looked around. "Here, my fair will help you finish."

A mental call later, and fourteen fire lizards appeared, chirping inquiringly. N'varr directed them to the brown and they set to with a will, scooping water over his back and wielding small brushed vigorously.

"My goodness, are they all yours?" the weyrling inquired, astonished as his brown whistled in relief at the strong scrubbing.

"Yep," N'varr nodded. He got that question from everyone who met his fair. "Listen, when they're done, just tell them to help anyone else who needs it. They like washing dragons and Kevlarth doesn't bathe as often as he used to."

"My duty to Kevlarth, bronze rider," the boy stated, suddenly remembering his manners. "I'm T'thy. This big beast is Berinth."

"Pleasure to meet you, T'thy," N'varr replied with a smile. "Berinth."

After a final mental note to his fair of scrubbing fire lizards, N'varr headed back towards the Lower Caverns where, once he was close enough, he could smell bread baking. Hurrying in, his stomach growling audibly, N'varr found his way to the kitchens.

"Good morning, N'varr," a thin grey haired woman said in a low voice. "How is Kevlarth this morning?"

"Fine, fit and flirting with the watchdragon, ma'am," N'varr gave her a short bow. "I'm sorry that I haven't made your acquaintance yet."

"Bierra," the woman replied, holding out a hand. "I'm Headwoman here. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Love some," N'varr sighed and breathed in deeply of the delicious smells, causing two young drudges to stare at him and giggle. He winked at them then accepted the tray Bierra had put together for him. Walking out to the dining hall, N'varr chose a seat nearest to a blazing hearth and settled down to his steaming klah, breadrolls stuffed with cheese and cereal.

"Good morning, N'varr!" a cheerful voice called from the doorway of the hall. N'varr looked up and smiled at the dark haired junior Weyrwoman approaching.

"Join me for breakfast, Weyrwoman?" he inquired, indicating all the empty seats around him.

"Thank you, I will," Gwyn replied and, after retrieving breakfast from the kitchen, settled down opposite him. "Have you been up long?"

"No, not really," N'varr told her, sipping his klah. "Just long enough to oil Kevlarth, send my fair to help out the Weyrlings and meet Bierra."

Gwyn chuckled.

"I'd say you've had a good start to your day," she smiled. "Have you met Lynnia yet?"

"No, not yet," N'varr shook his head. "I'd hoped to meet her today at some time."

"Well, she's up feeding the twins. After breakfast we can go over and say hi."

N'varr was about to reply when two figures converged on the table from opposite sides of the hall.

"Gwyn?" the man said, his badge identifying him as a brown rider. "Sorry to bother your breakfast, weyrwoman, but I need to speak to you."

"Both of us, dear," Bierra added firmly, she being the other person to come to the table.

"I'll just go outside to finish then," N'varr offered, standing up, but Gwyn, after a look into the brown rider's and the Headwoman's faces, stopped him.

"No, N'varr, wait," she said slowly. "If this about who I think it's about," a nod from the brown rider confirmed her thoughts and she continued briskly, "I think you should hear this." She stood up. "Let's go to the Council Room, people. M'ark and Lynnia are going to want to hear the latest."

The four walked across the Bowl in the face of the rising sun and into the small tunnel that led directly to the Council Room between Lynnia's and Gwyn's weyrs. N'varr, still chewing on a breadroll he had brought with him, was silent as he followed along. Something important was coming, he was sure of it.

The Council Room, in contrast to the somewhat dimly lit corridor, was bright. A large table, easily big enough for all Weyrleaders, Wingleaders and Wingseconds, graced the centre of the room and comfortable chairs encircled it. Hangings on the wall were pictures of the eight current Weyrs, plus a picture of the now destroyed SunCliff Weyr in its glory. It was a shame, really, thought N'varr, that SunCliff wasn't going to be rebuilt, although it made sense. The number of holders on the Southern Continent were still sparse due to the plague before the current Pass started.

"Have a seat, N'varr," Gwyn's voice interrupted his musing. "I'll go in and get M'ark and Lynnia."

The Junior Weyrwoman returned a few minutes later with Weyrleader M'ark, whom N'varr had already met, and a short, stout woman carrying two babies. Obviously, Weyrwoman Lynnia. She doesn't look so good, N'varr frowned slightly as the three last people sat down.

"K'nedy?" Gwyn politely nodded for the brown rider to begin.

"Well, it's Tory, as you probably know," K'nedy started with a sigh. "She's done it again."

"What is it this time?" Lynnia asked, her voice strained as she tried to hang onto both babies. Gwyn, seeing her problems, took one while M'ark took the other. Lynnia sighed and seemed to slump lower in her chair.

"She smashed two of the chairs in one of the guest rooms," Bierra replied. "It took four of the riders to hold her until she calmed down enough to take the dose Sarine made for her."

N'varr was puzzled. This sounded like a simple discipline problem. Why was he involved?

"That's the fourth time this week, Lynnia," K'nedy said earnestly. "I know we told her brother Harley - pardon me, H'ley - that she could stay, but now that he's Impressed, he can't control her! She'll have to be sent home."

"I would normally agree," Bierra put in slowly. "But in this case, I'm not so sure. There's something about Tory's rages that don't ring true with a child who has tantrums. These seem almost as though she were holding something inside of her that she needed to tell but feared that she couldn't. So it comes out in physical violence, instead of words."

N'varr's ears perked up. Physical violence, huh? Hmmmm...

"I've tried talking to her," Bierra continued, steepling her hands together. "But she won't talk about her home life, about anything. Her answers are monotone and one word."

"Has Sarine tried?" Gwyn asked, after a brief glance at Lynnia who was obviously not quite with the meeting, although she was valiantly trying. "Maybe she could do something." Sarine, N'varr remembered, was the Weyr Healer.

"The child won't talk to anyone," Bierra said sadly. "I'm at my wits' end, Gwyn."

Gwyn was silent for a moment. N'varr, seeing that everyone was stumped, and also seeing that his investigation might already have an end, spoke out.

"Would you like me to talk to her?" he inquired, looking from face to face. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger then someone familiar."

"Especially," Gwyn mused. "If that stranger has fire lizards. I've seen her looking at Doog sometimes when she's been near me."

K'nedy coughed.

"She may have been looking at him to hurt him," he warned the weyrwoman. "I've caught her throwing clods of dirt at the dragons."

"What?" M'ark bolted upright. "I haven't heard anything about this!"

"Now, now," K'nedy shushed M'ark. "It was from a distance, the clods never came near the beasts. But I don't think she harbours any good feeling towards them."

"Well, then, I'll keep my fair away from her," N'varr commented. "Come, let me try. It may be, as Gwyn thought already, that this concerns me more than I originally thought."

Gwyn exchanged glances with Lynnia and M'ark.

"All right, give it a try, N'varr," she said quietly. "Good luck."


	3. Chapter 3

F.L.I.T. Part Three

N'varr wandered around the Weyr, looking for the girl Tory whom the Weyrleaders had said was prone to violent temper tantrums. He didn't find her. Her tried again the next day, and the next. Still no sign of the girl. Then, as his luck would have it, he was called home to Southern for awhile. By the time the bronze rider had returned to Mackenzie Weyr, three months had flown by.

And in that time, two more deliberate murders occurred.

"I'm glad you're back, N'varr," Gwyn told the bronze rider on the day he returned. "But you came at a bad time, I think."

N'varr agreed. The senior Weyrwoman Lynnia was gravely ill, there was some sort of sickness going around that had already claimed the lives of three dragons and the herd and runner beasts were dropping like flies from what seemed to be a simple case of gas.

"If I can be of some help, Gwyn, I shall certainly try," N'varr responded. "But I must keep trying to find the murderer."

"Yes, two more deaths, both within a day's walk of here," Gwyn shook her head. "It's hard to believe that someone here could do something like that!"

"It's not necessarily here," N'varr reminded the slim, dark haired woman. "But this is the largest concentration of people in the area. I have to start somewhere." He looked at the weyrwoman's sad face. "Maybe I can keep him from killing someone else."

"Let's hope so."

They walked the rest of the way to the Dining Hall where the weyrfolk were gathering for dinner. N'varr accepted Gwyn's invitation to sit with her at the head table and when the bronze rider was settled with Gwyn to his right, he looked to see who was sitting on his left.

He was pleadantly surprised by the slim, dark brown haired woman who leaned on the table, smiling at someone down at the Wing tables. Her smile really did do the proverbial wonder of changing a pretty face to one of beauty. Albeit, N'varr amended his thoughts, tired beauty. The woman had darker patches under her green eyes, a sure sign of sleeplessness and although her face was clean, a smudge on her neck was evidence of a hurried wash.

N'varr had a sudden desire to carefully and gently wipe it off.

"Sarine!" a younger rider hurried up to the woman, his face drawn and anxious. "The blue is convulsing!"

Sarine hastily pushed back her chair and hurried after the messenger. N'varr was disappointed not to have spoken to her, but he would run into her again.

He would make sure of it.

Three days later, he still hadn't made sure of it.

"I had no idea this bloody Weyr was so big!" he exploded to D'lan, the Wingleader of the Green Wing and a friend.

"Have you tried just waiting in her infirmary?" D'lan suggested as he and N'varr scrubbed industriously at their dragons in the lake.

"Too obvious," N'varr objected, then, at D'lan's raised eyebrow, grumbled, "Three hours yesterday. She never came."

D'lan thought for a moment, his eyes on the fair of fire lizards soaring around overhead in between helping to wash the bronzes.

"You know, N'varr," he mused finally, jumping up to stand on the middle of Semath's tail. "My wingsecond A'star is a great friend of Sarine's."

N'varr pictured the lanky brown rider. She had been very well spoken when he had chatted with her and he had been a touch disappointed that her Creth was not a green. Kevlarth was very good at catching greens and a mating flight was one of the best ice breakers. Or so Magreth's rider L'iam said.

"You could ask A'star what Sarine's schedule is," D'lan continued. "Then you'll know where to find her."

"Hmmm," N'varr pondered, sitting down on Kevlarth's tail. "That's not a half bad idea, D'lan."

"Of course not," D'lan said smugly. "I came up with it."

N'varr laughed and a mental suggestion to Kevlarth caused the usually staid Semath to flick his tail, pitching D'lan head first into the water. A second later, N'varr was also flicked by the strong willed Kevlarth and no more than a minute later, the two grown men and the two fully adult bronze dragons were engaged in a water fight that rivalled the antics of the weyrlings.

The next day, N'varr sought out A'star. The Weyr was in a flurry of activity since Cailleath's second clutch was due to Hatch that day and guests were arriving from every direction, despite the deaths that had occurred. A'star didn't have much time to chat, as she was on her way to pick up Lord Niles, Lady Clovis and their son Nilvis from Boll.

"She'll be at the Hatching Feast, N'varr," A'star told him as she secured the riding straps onto Creth.


	4. Chapter 4

F.L.I.T. Part Four

N'varr crawled out of bed. It had been a long evening and he was not particularly in the mood to do his job, but this day was Thread free and he had plans.

After pulling on his dark wherhide trousers and a cream coloured shirt, N'varr crept silently out to Kevlarth's couch. The bronze was, he noticed gleefully, still asleep. N'varr could get him again! Calling the ever faithful Zip, N'varr outlined the plan to the excited bronze. Zip flew over to Kevlarth's head and hovered.

"Land!" N'varr hissed, waving his hand at the bronze dragon's head. Zip started downwards, the suddenly vanished.

"What the...!" N'varr stared at the space over his dragon's head where Zip had disappeared. A second later...

"OW!"

N'varr clapped a hand to his backside where Zip's sharp teeth had nipped him hard.

Kevlarth's head shot up and his rumbling chuckle echoed through the weyr.

_Gotcha,_ he said, his mental tone smug. _My point, N'varr._

"Oh, fine," N'varr grumbled, rubbing his bottom. "I'm probably bleeding."

_Zip didn't even hurt your pants,_ Kevlarth scoffed. N'varr finally grinned.

"That was a good one," he admitted.

_Cailleath suggested it,_ the bronze replie_d. She liked hearing about my tricks._

"Oh, ho!" N'varr teased. "Are you thinking of catching Cailleath on her next flight?"

_Maybe, _Kevlarth replied, stretching luxuriously._ Magreth has caught her twice, but there is no strong bond between them._

"Well, aren't you just full of news this morning!"

_You were too busy drinking to hear any,_ Kevlarth retorted as he walked out to the ramp at the entrance of their ground level weyr, his rider following.

"You're right!" N'varr cheerfully agreed. "I was successfully getting drunk last night. Good thing you were sober, so one of us got the latest gossip."

_I don't drink anything but water,_ Kevlarth reminded his weyrmate. _ I could never _not _be sober._

"True enough," N'varr nodded, squinting up at the sun. "Looks to be about elevenish, wouldn't you say?"

_It's before noon, _Kevlarth agreed. _I'm going for my morning drink._

"I'm off for breakfast," N'varr thumped Kevlarth affectionately and they went their separate ways.

An hour later, his stomach content with a bowl of vegetable soup he had cadged from the lunch cooks, N'varr called up to where Kevlarth was sunning, high on a ledge. The bronze winged down and N'varr climbed up onto his neck.

"Gwyn pointed the direction of Hillside Cothold," N'varr told his weyrmate. "We'll have to fly straight. She's never been there. One of the recent murder sites is on the way, though. I'd like to stop."

Kevlarth rumbled agreeably and they took off.

Forty five minutes later, Kevlarth banked and landed gently on the ground.

"Nice landing."

_Naturally._

The meadow was green with the beginning of spring and N'varr looked appreciatively on the early purple and yellow flowers that had burst exuberantly from the only recently solidly frozen ground.

Sarine might like some, he thought, then smacked himself to get his mind back on the business at hand.

The actual place where the trader caravan had found the pitifully slashed body of a man was at one side of the meadow under the thick trunk of a tree. When N'varr had investigated soon after the discovery, the meadow had held indications of a struggle, but after all this time, nature had erased the mistake and there was little to indicate what horror had occurred there.

N'varr scouted around the area, hoping that he might find something he had missed before, but there was nothing. N'varr sighed. He hadn't really expected to find anything, but he had held out hope. Kevlarth, whiffling at a clump of purple flowers, looked up as N'varr approached.

Nothing? he inquired.

"Nothing," N'varr agreed. "Let's go talk to Galand, then. Maybe we'll have better luck with that."

Kevlarth took off once his rider was settled and two hours later, they landed in an empty field near the small cothold called Hillside.

A boy of about six or seven turns came running out of one of the larger stone buildings and as he drew closer, N'varr could see the resemblance to H'ley and Tory. This, then, was their younger brother.

_Swift thinking._

_Quiet, you._

"Are you on Search?" the boy demanded as he came to a breathless stop next to Kevlarth's foreleg, upon which, N'varr was standing. "Have you come for me?"

N'varr smiled as he jumped down to the ground.

"Sorry, son," he apologized. "I'm not on Search, I'm just here to see your daddy."

"Oh," the boy was patently disappointed. "That's a big bronze," he stated, looking up at Kevlarth. "Are you from Mackenzie Weyr? My brother Harley is there and he Impressed a brown dragon called Yabelith and now he's a dragon rider and everyone's s'posed to call him H'ley but I forget sometimes and my sister Tory is there too but she didn't Impress 'cause no dragon wanted her that time but H'ley said that she might Impress another time and what Wing are you in?"

The boy had obviously run out of breath and N'varr, his head spinning slightly, hastened to speak.

"Yes, I'm from Mackenzie, I'm not in a Wing right now and I really need to see your daddy. Will you take me to him?"

The boy looked at him for a moment.

"Can I have a ride?" he asked.

N'varr sighed.

"If you take me to see your daddy, you can have a ride," he agreed.

"Ride first," the boy bargained.

"Daddy first."

"RIDE FIRST!"

N'varr winced at the shriek and lifted the boy up to Kevlarth's forearm. Jumping up beside him, the bronze rider clambered up the dragon's neck then reached down a hand to haul the small boy up in front of him. Fastening the safety straps, N'varr gave Kevlarth the go ahead.

They circled Hillside for five minutes, then Kevlarth neatly landed. N'varr grasped the boy around his waist and slid down to the ground.

"Now, I want to see your daddy," he said firmly. The boy, his eyes shining from his ride, grabbed N'varr's hand and tugged him to the building he had come out of. Down a short hallway, the boy stopped at a door and went in. N'varr followed.

"This is where everyone sees my daddy," the boy announced. And sure enough, the man was there, stretched out on table, eyes closed. Dead.

"Your daddy is dead?" N'varr blurted out, his even nature momentarily deserting him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, he's not dead, he's just sleeping really hard, the way he sometimes does," the boy asserted. "Of course, Mama says he won't wake up this time, but I think he will."

N'varr sighed, his lead cut off abruptly. Letting go of the boy's hand, N'varr stepped closer to the dead Galand.

He had been injured, that was obvious. Although he was covered to his neck with a white sheet, the face showed signs of a brutal attack. With a knife.

Another murder victim.

Back at the Weyr, N'varr, in a decidedly unhappy mood, paced the stone floor while Kevlarth watched patiently from his couch.

_Talk it out, N'varr,_ Kevlarth suggested. _It worked before._

N'varr looked over at the bronze and shrugged. Not stopping his pacing, he began to vocalize his running thoughts.

"We know that all four murders happened within a six hour ride from here," N'varr stated, his thoughts churning, his eyes focussed inwards. "Anyone from Mackenzie Weyr could have started out in the morning, had a murder for lunch and been home in time for dinner."

_Murder for lunch?_

"Shush, I'm thinking."

A moment's thought.

"Tory could easily have accomplished this," N'varr continued. "And we know that she hated her stepfather."

_Enough to kill him_?

"Maybe," N'varr nodded. "But why would she have killed those other men? What's the connection?"

_Check the Records,_ Kevlarth advised. _Maybe who they are will be a clue._

"Call Meena and Raye, love," N'varr nodded decisively. "I'll send them to the two people who are holding records of the events."

In a flash, N'varr's two golden fire lizards appeared, chittering excitedly. N'varr fastened the notes he had hastily scrawled and sent them off. Maybe his luck would change with the return of the lizards and the Records.

He'd have to wait... and hope.


	5. Chapter 5

F.L.I.T. Part Five

Meena burst out of _between_ cheeping loudly. N'varr jerked awake and was momentarily disoriented at finding himself curled up beside Kevlarth, his head pillowed on the bronze's ankle.

"Wha...? Oh! Meena, come here," N'varr patted the ground next to him and the golden lizard obediently landed. Unhooking the message tube from her leg, N'varr eagerly shook out its contents.

"Greetings, N'varr, Kevlarth's rider," the single sheet of paper read. "I am sending the Records of the murders to you with our Watchdragon as they are too cumbersome for your lizard. Apologies for the delay."

N'varr swore, having forgotten entirely that his fire lizards couldn't carry anything as big as a roll of Records.

"I should have gone myself!" he stomped the ground, alarming Meena. Stroking her in reassurance, he wondered where Raye, the other gold was.

_She comes, _Kevlarth told him, a split second before Raye appeared. _As do Myninth and Ocelath._

"So Lords Hurok and Katan had the same idea," N'varr smiled, taking the second note from Raye. It said much the same thing as the first one had and N'varr pitched them both into his garbage.

"Let's go get those Records."

K'it and Myninth, the current watch dragons for Nerat Hold had already landed by the time N'varr reached the Bowl. As he approached the brown dragon, T'yar and Ocelath banked and landed neatly beside Myninth.

"Thank you for bringing these Records, gentlemen," N'varr smiled at the two young riders as they dismounted.

"It's no problem, N'varr," K'it smiled in return, handing over a leather pouch. "I have some other things to deliver here anyway, so it was a good excuse."

"Me too," the laconic T'yar put in, also handing over his bundle.

N'varr started back towards his weyr, then changed his mind and headed for the Dining Hall instead.

As the sun had informed him, it was indeed dinnertime. Gwyn waved to him form the head table, and N'varr smiled back, but chose to sit at a half empty table near the doors. Piling the Records for easy reading, N'varr absently filled his plate from the platters being passed then settled down to pore over the notes.

The first murder had been of a man who had lived at a small cothold about an hour's ride from Hillside. He was a carpenter and, from all accounts, not a particularly good one. Not married, no children.

The second man, also unmarried and without children, was an apprentice beastherder who had left the craft only three months after his arrival at the Beastcraft Hall. He had moved to a cothold some two hours closer to Mackenzie from Hillside as a hired worker.

The third man was older than the other two and had, in fact, been married to a woman more than half his age. She had borne him twin girls who had been only a year old when he died. The wife, Durla, had had nothing to say as to the reasons her husband may have been killed, but others said that there had been no love lost between them and that Durla herself probably killed him. N'varr found that hard to believe, however, he kept an open mind.

The fourth victim, of course, was the recently deceased Galand of Hillside Cothold.

N'varr set aside the Records and reached for his mug of tea. He was surprised to find it cold and even more surprised to find that his well filled plate was empty. He didn't remember eating anything and his growling stomach agreed with him. A quiet burp from beside him drew his eyes down to the bench.

"You rotten pests!" he exploded, a smile twitching at the sight of Meena and Raye, their bellies distended with N'varr's dinner, lying lazily on their backs.

Meena opened one eye and delicately belched wherry breath into N'varr's face. The bronze rider had to laugh.

"Hey," he hailed a passing drudge. "Can you bring me a platter of food from the kitchens?"

The drudge, a dark skinned male, nodded without speaking and headed off. A few minutes later he was back with a large platter of meats and vegetables.

"Thank you!" N'varr smiled gratefully and passed the boy a 32nd mark. "That's more than enough!"

The dark boy smiled, pocketed the money and went off.

N'varr ate his fill, putting aside the murders for the moment and when he was done, glanced surreptitiously around. The Hall was mostly empty. N'varr sent out a mental call and in a moment, the twelve lesser colours of his fair appeared, their eyes whirling hungrily.

"Go nuts," N'varr waved his hand at the food and the fire lizards dove into the remains of his dinner.

That night, N'varr lay on his bed, his hands behind his head. Kevlarth was snoring softly in the next room, fourteen sleeping fire lizards draped all around him, and N'varr was alone with his thoughts - a not so common occurrence.

First things first, he mused to himself, staring up at the rocky ceiling. Figure out the elements and see what they lead to.

One: the murder victims had all been adult males, ranging in age from twenty three to forty turns. All were from small cotholds and none had held positions of authority, although Galand had married the sister of the holder.

Two: all four murders had occurred in isolated spots away from the cotholds, therefore, no witnesses.

Three: the fatal wounds inflicted on the victims had been done with a knife, therefore, they were human attacks, rather than bestial.

Four: the murders had started shortly after the Search that had brought Harley and his sister Tory to Mackenzie Weyr.

N'varr frowned and rolled over on his stomach. If Tory was committing the murders, and all the pieces did seem to point in her direction, she had started killing only after reaching Mackenzie.

Out of harm's way? Out of reach of retaliation?

But by whom? And why was she killing these men? The stepfather, N'varr could understand, if she was given to horrible rages and she hated him anyway, but the others?

N'varr grunted and closed his eyes. He'd sleep on it and think it over again in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

F.L.I.T. Part Six

N'varr slipped away early with Kevlarth and his full complement of fire lizards. Ostensibly they were re-investigating a murder site - in reality, N'varr was taking a day off from his work with a trip to a flower filled meadow.

He had a surprise in mind for a certain lady.

They landed neatly at the edge of the open field and N'varr slid happily down Kevlarth's obligingly slanted foreleg. It was a gorgeous spring day, warmer than usual and the purple and yellow flowers had been joined by blooms of many other colours. The fourteen fire lizards who had popped into the air after Kevlarth cheeped and chittered in excited delight as the swooped in and around the flowers. It looked like a game of tag, but N'varr never figured out who was it. That didn't stop him from joining in, however, and he spent several minutes chasing swift, squeaking fire lizards around the meadow before settling down to the gravely important task that had brought him there.

Flower picking.

N'varr's uncle on his mother's side was a glass smith, noted for the delicate crystal he produced. The last time N'varr had visited, he had bought a fluted, cut crystal vase. He had an eye for beautiful things (like Sarine, his unruly mind mentioned) and now he had someone to offer it to.

The bronze rider was careful in his choices of flowers, so as to pick the prettiest and sweetest smelling ones. He had only picked a few when something, he didn't know what, caused him to look upwards. And when he did, he saw the figure of a small brown dragon flying almost directly overhead.

"Kevlarth?" he called to the bronze who was stretched out with his eyes closed. "Who was that?"

Kevlarth raised his head and blinked.

_Yabelith of Mackenzie Weyr,_ he replied.

"Ask him where he's going," N'varr told the bronze. It was fairly unusual to see a weyrling alone outside of the Weyr.

There was a pause, then Kevlarth turned his head to N'varr.

_He wouldn't tell me,_ the mental tone of the dragon was tinged with surprise.

N'varr was immediately suspicious. With a faint feeling of regret, he put his carefully picked flowers down on the ground and vaulted up to Kevlarth's neck. After hooking the riding straps and calling to the fire lizards (who ignored him, being intent on chasing the bugs, the butterflies and each other) N'varr thumped Kevlarth's neck.

"Let's just follow them," he suggested and Kevlarth rumbled agreeably. They were in the air a moment later and N'varr spotted the rapidly diminishing figure of the young brown.

_Looks like they're heading in the direction of Hillside, _N'varr commented as Kevlarth stroked the wind strongly with his frail looking wings. _Why wouldn't they just go _between_? He can surely give a clear enough picture of his home._

_The Weyrlingmaster has forbidden the Weyrlings to go _between_ until they are trained,_ Kevlarth reminded his rider. _Yabelith would not disobey Ath's command._

_But apparently H'ley would happily disobey K'nedy,_ N'var mused_. I'm certain he doesn't allow unescorted trips, even home._ He thought for a second. _Is H'ley's sister with him?_

Kevlarth rippled his skin in a draconic shrug. N'varr thought for a moment, then, when he determined that Yabelith and H'ley weren't changing their heading, decided on a course of action.

_To Hillside, beloved one,_ he told his weyrmate, picturing the small cothold. _I think we'll wait for them there._

Kevlarth didn't reply, but N'varr felt his approval as they slipped _between._ Three heartbeats later, they emerged in the air over the now familiar cothold and Kevlarth delicately landed on the ground. N'varr had a sudden sense of deja-vu as the same small child came pelting out of the building towards them.

"Hi!" the little boy called, recognizing them. "Ride again?"

N'varr thought fast. If he refused, the boy would be around when H'ley and Tory showed up, but if he agreed...

_How long until they get here, Kevlarth?_ He asked silently.

_Hour, maybe longer,_ Kevlarth replied, swinging his head down to the ground. N'varr turned to the boy who had begun to fearlessly pat the bronze's nose.

"I have a plan," he suggested, hunkering down to the child's level. "Why don't we play some games for awhile? Then go for a ride?"

"Ok," the boy replied, wide eyed at the thought of an adult wanting to play with him! Within moments, they were off on a Thread killing flight across the meadow, N'varr dutifully following the commands of his "Wingleader", who had finally given the name of Galan.

_They are close,_ Kevlarth finally announced. N'varr couldn't see them but trusted his dragon's judgement implicitly. He stopped exhaling "fire" and called to Galan.

"How about that ride now?"

Galan, although disappointed that the game with the funny man had stopped, was more than eager to ride a real dragon instead of a stick. He rushed to N'varr's side and the man lifted the boy onto Kevlarth's foreleg. Leaping up after him, N'varr placed the boy on the bronze dragon's neck and securely fastened him to the riding straps. Then, he leapt down to the ground.

"You're not coming?" Galan asked, his lip quivering in excitement and a little fear.

"You're a big strong dragonrider, remember?" N'varr reminded the child of the game. "You can handle Kevlarth all right, can't you?"

"Sure!" Galan sat up straighter and took a tight hold onto the strap in front of him. "I'm a good dragonrider!"

"You are indeed," N'varr replied. _Keep him safe and away until I call, funny face. Feel free to talk to him._

_Why thank you,_ the dragon's tone was coloured in sarcasm.

N'varr chuckled and slapped Kevlarth on the leg. Moving back, he watched as his bronze made a careful takeoff and ascent into the air. When they were well on the way in the opposite direction that Yabelith and his riders were coming, N'varr found his way to a large rock cropping and settled down, hidden. He didn't have long to wait.

Yabelith landed in nearly the same spot that Kevlarth had been and N'varr watched as H'ley dismounted. He was a little disappointed that Tory wasn't with him. It looked as though his efforst were in vain. Still, there may be something to learn here, he thought, edging out from his hiding place once the now riderless Yabelith had taken off for the heights of the tall hill that the cothold was built into. H'ley, his helmet tucked under his arm, was walking towards the entranceway. N'varr moved back to his hiding place, closed his eyes and called his fire lizards. They appeared silently around him and settled down, all business.

"Ok," he told them in a soft voice. "Go follow H'ley," he pictured the boy," but don't let him see you. Relay messages back to me."

N'varr fitted his lean body into a comfortable spot in the rocks and closed his eyes as the fire lizards flitted off. Almost instantly, pictures began appearing in his mind. The confusion of seeing things through several sets of eyes started to appear but N'varr concentrated hard and one set of eyes cleared while the others faded into the background. He was ready now and could see what was going on.

H'ley walked into the building and the first person he saw was obviously a relative, for the woman squealed at his appearance and rished to hug him. The view was a little awkward, looking down from above, but N'varr blessed Raye, who's eyes he was using. She was the best of his fair at getting close without being seen!

"Harl...H'ley!" the woman corrected herself, holding the boy at arm's length. "You look wonderful! We weren't expecting you!"

"I came back for a visit, mother," H'ley replied with a smile. They walked into a room and the vision jumped as N'varr switched to bronze Zip who was already hiding in that room. A momentary distraction of swooping down on a gossamer spinner made N'varr frown - he'd have to have a word with Ranny about not doing her job!

"Where's your brown dragon?" H'ley's mother inquired, looking around as if expecting to see the brown in the room.

"He's up on the fire heights," H'ley replied, then leaned forward earnestly. "Mother, has any of Galand's friends been to visit recently?"

N'varr watched as the woman's face grew pinched.

"Rebard is here now," she said stiffly. "He came by and wanted to see Tory but I of course told him she was at the Weyr."

"Is he still here?" H'ley inquired, his face serious.

"He left yesterday," H'ley's mother replied. "Sweetheart, I don't want you..."

"Hush," H'ley commanded. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Mackenzie Weyr," the woman admitted in a voice so low that N'varr, listening through the hidden Lita's ears, hardly heard.

"Well then, he has a long walk," H'ley smiled. "Now, how about some dinner? And where's Galan?"

"Why, he was around here somewhere," H'ley's mother again looked around as if to see the little boy who was, at that moment, whooping with delight on Kevlarth's back high up in the sky. "He'll be back soon, I'm sure. He's as dragon crazy as you were."

They left the room and N'varr instructed his fire lizards to keep watch while he disengaged from their minds.

_Ok, c'mon back, _he called to Kevlarth. _We can leave now._

_Coming._

Kevlarth returned to view fairly soon and landed as gently as he ever had. N'varr jumped up to release Galan from the straps. The boy's eyes were shining and his hands clutched N'varr's in hero worship as the bronze rider helped him down.

"Now listen to me for a second," N'varr knelt down to face the boy. "Can you keep a secret?"

Galan solemnly nodded his head.

"Then I want you to keep the secret that I was here until after your brother leaves," N'varr told the boy, not really thinking that Galan would stay silent, but hoping that he would. "If you keep the secret, I'll come back someday and you can be a dragonrider again."

"Promise?" Galan asked, and something in his tone made him think that promises had been broken to the boy before.

"I promise."

_And I promise too, Galan,_ Kevlarth said and N'varr smiled as Galan's face lit up at the sound of the dragon's voice. _Keep the secret and you can be a dragonrider with me again._

"I will!" Galan stroked Kevlarth's nose, then N'varr patted the boy on the head. He was rewarded with a sudden hug and the small arms around him made him think that children of his own might be nice someday.

_He will keep the secret,_ Kevlarth advised his rider. _And he will ride a dragon of his own someday._

_I think so too._

"Bye Galan," N'varr called down as he leapt up to Kevlarth's neck. "See you soon!"

Galan waved until Kevlarth winked between then went to his room with his secret where he could play dragonrider in his dreams.

Back at the Weyr, N'varr first put the flowers he had returned to gather in the crystal vase, then plotted out what he would do the next several days to try and get more evidence on Tory. That evening at dinnertime, his plans were all rendered useless.

Quarantine was announced and N'varr, like everyone else at Mackenzie Weyr, was going nowhere for a long time.


End file.
